If We Could Turn Back Time
by Broadway's Next Baby
Summary: During and Post-Reichenbach. What if Sherlock survived the fall because of the TARDIS? He comes back from traveling with the Doctor to find everything wrong, and is faced with a serious question: If you could turn back time, would you? R&R please!


**If We Could Turn Back Time. . .**

**A/N: Hello, everyone! My name is Margaret, and this is my first published fic, so please be kind, and I'd mostly like encouragement for now. However, constructive criticism would be great, as well as ideas for where you want me to go with this. I may end up using them. . . ;-) Reviews will make me happy! Once this gets going, it will mostly be Sherlock with occasional Doctor Who, but for now, it's both. R&amp;R please!**

"Where to today?" The Eleventh Doctor grins at Clara. They've been traveling together for quite some time, so she's gotten used to him choosing crazy places to take her, but today it's her choice.

Clara thinks about it for a little while, then answers him. "Hmmmm. . . how about that planet you were telling me about? What was it, Barcelona? That one where the dogs have no noses?"

"The Doctor winces. "Not good?" she asks.

"It's fine," he replies. "We can go there if you want."

"No," she says, "something about it bothers you. What is it?"

"He sighs. "Have I ever told you about Rose?"

"I think so. You traveled with her a while back, right?"

"It's been a long time," he answers. "She helped me get back on my feet after the Time War, but I. . . lost her, let's say."

"What happened to her?" she asks.

"She and I were fighting the Daleks and the Cybermen, and the only way to get rid of the Daleks was to send them into a parallel universe. We were closing the opening, but the pull of it was incredibly strong. It became too hard for her to hold on, so she was sent to the parallel universe as well, and I couldn't bring her back.

"We met again, but she had to go back. She's happy now, though." He smiles wistfully.

"You miss her a lot, don't you?" Clara looks at him, worried.

"Only sometimes," he replies.

"May I ask what Rose has to do with the planet Barcelona?" she murmurs, unsure whether or not he's going to be okay.

"Oh, right! Last time I visited there, it was just after I'd regenerated the time before who I am now. She was traveling with me at the time, and we narrowly escaped the dogs. Turns out, that was not a good day for them, they were barking mad, pun not intended. That was the most out of breath I had been in a while!" The Doctor begins to laugh, Clara joining him. Soon he is bright red, gasping for air.

"Are you okay?" Clara smirks.

"Oh, of course I am!" he manages to get out through peals of laughter.

"Are you going to be okay with going to Barcelona?" she asks.

"Yeah, I think so," he replies. "Do the honors."

"Really?" she gasps. The Doctor never lets anyone help him steer.

"Yep, I trust you."

"Okay, here goes nothing!" She pushes down the major lever, and the familiar groaning sound soon begins. She grins widely at the Doctor, flying the TARDIS is unlike any other experience she's ever had. He begins to direct her to turn this dial, flick that switch, spin that wheel, hit that button, and so on.

"How do you ever remember the directions?" she inquires, curious.

"After you've been traveling for as long as I have, you remember things like that," he blows off.

"Sure," she answers. "I bet it's programmed into your brain when you're born on Gallifrey."

"Think what you want," he winks. "Oh, we've landed!"

"Do you think it worked? Are we actually where we meant to go?" Clara wonders aloud.

"Only one way to know," he smiles. "After you."

"Suddenly, they hear a ringing sound. It sounds like a phone, but what phone could it possibly be?

"What's that?" she asks.

"I don't know, is it your mobile?" he answers, just as confused as she is.

"No, I know my ringtone, and it's definitely not that."

"Is it. . . ?. . . but it can't be. . . never mind," the Doctor shakes his head.

"Is it what?" Clara pushes.

"It sounds like the TARDIS phone, but it's not hooked up, never has been," he replies.

"If it's never been hooked up, how do you know what it sounds like?" she questions.

"Because it's rung in the past. . ." he mutters.

"When?" she asks.

"Too long to remember, it was during World War II in London, this kid could control lots of things, including the phones, it was freaky. He kept on walking around, saying, "Are you my mummy?" That's all he said, and if he touched you, you became like him. All very messy, but we figured out how to fix things. . . Oh wait, you called it the first time we met!" he remembers.

"That's true."

The phone continues to ring.

"Why don't you just pick it up?" Clara asks.

"But it shouldn't be. . . "

"I don't care that it shouldn't be ringing!"

"But Clara. . ."

"Pick up the damn thing!"

"Language, Clara! And if it's bothering you so much, pick it up yourself!"

"Because it's _your phone_, Doctor," she reminds him.

"Oh right." He sighs. "FINE, I'll check it, but it's not normal for it to be ringing."

"It's not normal to travel through space and time in a police box that just so happens to be bigger on the inside."

"Touche."

The Doctor opens the door to the TARDIS, and sure enough, the phone is ringing. He looks at it and shakes his head. _That's impossible, but. . ._ he thinks. He picks up the receiver, glaring.

"Hello? You're being very annoying, this phone's been ringing for about five minutes."

"Yes, I know, I'm not stupid," the voice on the other end replies. It's deep, obviously masculine.

"How did you even get this number?" the Doctor says, very suspicious.

"I have my sources. . ." he replies. "Plus, we've met before, and you told me to call you if I needed anything." The Doctor can hear an amused note to the other man's voice. _Is he mocking me? Also, what does he mean, 'we've met before'?_

"I've never met you."

"This IS the Doctor, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I must have met you later in your time stream. Listen, it doesn't matter how I got this, but I need your help. I know, I never need anyone's help, but this is a dire situation."

"Okay, let's just start this conversation over. Who is this?"

"You're really that clueless and unobservant, Doctor?"

"I'm not clueless! I just don't know you!"

The man on the other end sighs. "My name is Sherlock Holmes, I'm the world's only consulting detective, and I need your help."


End file.
